The situation had made Budh alert. Putting his hand on the old woman’s body, he said, ‘Babuji, I can’t do a thing now, she’s dying.’
Doctor Sahib said entreatingly, ‘No, Chaudhuri, for God’s sake start your mantra. If her life is saved, I’ll remain your slave for life.’
‘You’re asking me to deliberately eat poison. I didn’t realize that the gods of the spell were so angry right now. They’re sitting inside me and saying, if you snatch away our victim we’ll swallow you.’
‘Get the gods to come around somehow,’ said the doctor.
‘It’s very difficult to get them to come around. Give me five hundred rupees, then she’ll be saved. I’ll have to exert great effort to bring down the curse.’
‘If I give you five hundred rupees, will you save her life?’
‘Yes, I promise.’
Doctor Sahib went like lightning into his room and, returning with a purse of five hundred rupees, placed it before Budh. Budh looked at the purse victoriously. Then he put Jagiya’s head in his lap and began moving his hand over it. He would mutter something and say, ‘Chhoo, chhoo.’ For a second his face became scary and what looked like flames leapt from it. He began to writhe repeatedly. In this condition he sang a song off-key, but his hand remained on Jagiya’s head. At last, after half an hour, like a dying lamp that has been replenished with oil, Jagiya’s eyes opened. Her condition improved slowly. A crow’s cawing was heard and she turned over and sat up.7
It was seven o’clock and Jagiya was in a sweet slumber. She looked well. Budh had just left with the money. Doctor Sahib’s mother said, ‘Before we knew what was happening, he took off with five hundred rupees.’
The doctor said, ‘Why don’t you say that he brought the dead to life? Is her life not worth even that much?’
‘Check if there are five hundred rupees in the alcove or not.’
‘No, don’t touch that money, let it stay there. She’d taken it to go on pilgrimage, it’ll go towards that end alone.’
‘All this money was in her fate only.’
‘Only five hundred was in her fate, the rest was in mine. Thanks to it I learnt a lesson I won’t forget all my life. You won’t find me tight-fisted over the necessary things any more.’
Translated from the Hindi by Anjum Hasan
Victory of the Defeated1
Keshav was an old rival of mine and in every walk of life was one step ahead of me. His accomplishments cast him as a bright star on the horizon. The brilliant array of Keshav’s talents overshadowed my ordinary life, which paled in comparison. If there was one longing in my mind, it was to outshine him in some sphere of life. In spite of my best efforts this desire was not fulfilled. I did not recognize it then but I was actually devoid of the natural talent that he possessed. My only consolation was that though he outshone me intellectually I was sure I would steal the spotlight in everyday life and hopefully in matters of love. Unfortunately, when we both plunged into the sea of love it seemed that the pearl had come to his hand and not mine and this filled me with despair.
Our professor, Babu Haridas Bhatia, though not aspiring to wealth in principle, was not indifferent to it either. He preferred me to the brilliant Keshav for his daughter, Lajjawati. One evening he came to my room and said in a worried tone, ‘Sharda Charan, for months I have been worried about something that only you can solve. I do not have a son of my own, and I have always regarded you and Keshav as my sons. Though he is more brilliant and scholarly than you, I feel that he won’t achieve worldly success as you would. I have chosen you for Lajjawati. Can I hope that you will accept her?’
I was as free as a bird since my parents had left the world when I was a child. There was no one in my family whose consent was necessary. Any man would think himself lucky to have a wife as beautiful, affectionate and sweet-tempered as Lajjawati. I was beside myself with joy. Lajjawati was like a garden in full bloom with the refreshing fragrance of roses and the life-sustaining lushness of vegetation. There was the tumult of the morning breeze and the chirping of lovely birds. She was also a thinker and believer in socialist ideologies. Several times she engaged me in discussions about women’s rights and important political issues. Unlike Professor Bhatia hers was not mere lip service to principles. She wanted to act on them. The enlightened Keshav was her preferred choice. However, I knew that Professor Bhatia’s wish was mandatory for her. As for me, I respected her wishes and supported total freedom in this matter. That is why I could not enjoy the discomfort and despair of Keshav as I had desired. Both of us were drowned in our sorrows. For the first time I felt sympathy for Keshav. I just wanted to ask Lajjawati why she considered me beneath her attention. But I was hesitant to broach such a delicate subject with her face to face. This was only natural, because no girl in such circumstances would like to open her heart to anyone. Lajjawati thought that it was her duty to make her secret wishes known to me. She was looking for an opportunity, and such an opportunity soon presented itself.
It was evening and Keshav had gone to the Rajput hostel to read his article on socialism. Professor Bhatia was chairing the session. Lajjawati was sitting in the bungalow alone. Hiding my secret heartache
